


Kept

by Bryonia_Alba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, BDSM, Crossgen, F/M, Object Insertion, Rimming, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bryonia_Alba/pseuds/Bryonia_Alba
Summary: Not all prisons are visible.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Inell for HP_Springsmut 2005.

The heavy wooden door opened with a muted click, and he walked into the room with measured steps, his eyes lowered. He waited in silence as the house-elf closed the door behind him. He waited.

“You’re late.”

“I know. Forgive me.” He hid a flinch at the unsuppressed ire he heard in her voice. There would be no hint of gentleness, no touch of mercy this evening. He shivered slightly in anticipation beneath the weight of her displeased gaze. She would be magnificent in her anger. She always was.

“Undress.” The single word was spoken in a manner that boded ill for any delay. Keeping his eyes lowered, he did as she bade him, slipping his heavy Ministry robes from his shoulders, removing his polished dragonhide boots, pushing his trousers down past his hips and stepping out of them. He could hear her circling around him as he disrobed until he stood naked before her, his arms loose at his sides, his cock already standing at attention.

He felt her sigh as she came up behind him, breath wafting over his back like ghostly, ethereal fingers, stirring strands of his hair.

“You’ve missed me.” When he said nothing she added, “You may speak.”

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered thickly, feeling her press against him, one arm sliding around his waist to grasp his cock. “Always.”

Her scent surrounded him, of sandalwood and rare spices and her own arousal as she stroked him from base to tip, her thumb gliding over the swollen head, smearing the drops of pre-come already gathered there.

“Lift your arms,” she whispered. “Your gaze will remain on the floor.”

He kept his gaze down, his eyes tracing the rendered patterns of emerald and jade, malachite and pearl woven into the thick carpet under his feet. His breathing quickened as first one cuff, and then the second, closed around his wrists. The fur-lined leather was deceptively soothing.

The blindfold was next. He caught the briefest glimpse of gold-shot scarlet silk before darkness descended and his remaining senses sprang into painfully enhanced acuity. He breathed in the exotic richness of her fragrant hair, listened to the sound of her light footsteps as she surveyed her handiwork from every angle. He imagined tasting the phantom flavour of her cunt on his tongue. If he was well-mannered, if he pleased her this evening, he might yet receive that privilege.

The touch of leather trailing over his naked skin forced a low moan from his throat, multiple strands tracing his buttocks and thighs, chest and belly. The first blow fell across his shoulders; the second against the back of his legs. He bit his lip, tasting the blood there as she lashed him front and back, shoulders to knees. He never knew from which direction the lash would fall next. Writhing and twisting, he pictured thin red lines crossing and re-crossing pale flesh. Her low laughter teased at his ears in counterpoint to his gasps at each bite of the lash, his moans as the leather slapped against sweat-slickened skin and his tears dampened the silk covering his eyes.

When the last blow fell he could only stand, trembling, as cool fingers traced the welts crisscrossing his heated flesh.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, just before she ran her tongue along a welt. The wet heat made him shudder as she lapped kittenishly at his abraded skin, licking, nibbling. Her fingers scratched and pinched his sore buttocks before slipping into his cleft, teasing at the puckered hole there. Licking along the web of welts lacing his arse with long, rough strokes of her tongue, she slowly worked one finger into him, and then another. The sound of his hitching gasps filled the room as she scissored her fingers inside of him, stretching him mercilessly before replacing fingers with her tongue, delving into him as he whimpered in helpless pleasure.

He tensed when she drew back, sucking in a quick breath when he felt the leather handle press against him. Caressing the clenched muscles of his buttocks and the small of his back until he relaxed beneath her touch, she resumed working the whip handle into his rectum, inch by braided inch until he had taken it all save what she could grasp. Sliding it back out, then in, she fucked him with the handle, her thrusts forceful and regular. Still fucking him, she reached around and grabbed his hard, aching cock, fisting it roughly, stroking it in time to the whip handle sliding in and out of his rectum.

“Talk to me!” she demanded, her voice harsh in his ear.

He did, telling her of Dumbledore being paraded naked and stumbling through the streets of Hogsmeade before his execution at the hand of Voldemort himself. He told her of Severus Snape’s defection to the other side, lending his knowledge of the enemy to the Longbottom boy, who was the resistance’s last great hope now that Potter was dead. He spoke of Dementors and vampires on one side, battling werewolves and dragons on the other. He kept talking even as the sentences broke into stuttering breaths beneath her clever fingers on his cock and the whip handle sliding repeatedly over his prostate. His balls tightened against the core of heat deep within his belly, and he came with a groan and a shudder, feeling his seed spurt into the air. He slumped, breathless and panting against his bonds, still speaking, now of the upcoming trial of Millicent Bulstrode for treason.

He couldn’t prevent the gasp of relief as she removed the whip handle from his throbbing arse and undid the cuffs binding his wrists. He managed not to stumble as she laid her hand against the small of his back, guiding him to the bed. He knew the way well enough by now.

“Lie back,” she said softly. The silk sheets were cool and soothing against his stinging backside as she carefully bound his wrists once more, this time to the headboard before straddling his face.

His tongue darted out, licking at her slick wetness, feeling the tiny quiver of muscles along her thighs. Her breathy cries filled his ears like the finest music as he fucked her with his tongue, lapping at her juices. His teeth closed over her clit, tugging gently, and she came in wracking shudders. He drank eagerly from the fresh surge of wetness coating his tongue, savouring the tangy taste of her.

She moved away from him, releasing his wrists before removing the silk covering his eyes. He blinked against the sudden glare of candlelight as she curled against him, her brown eyes regarding him calmly.

“Love me,” she said.

“Yes.” He rolled on top of her, parting her thighs with one hand before driving into her wet heat. She rolled her hips, welcoming him as his hands went to her breasts, kneading the supple flesh, his thumbs grazing her nipples. Their gazes locked as he thrust into her, her hips rising to meet his.

“Say my name,” she moaned as his movements quickened, drawing toward completion. “Say it, say it, say it…”

“Hermione,” he breathed. “Hermione…” Stiffening, he emptied himself into her, still calling her name. He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Hermione,” he said again, reverently.

“Lucius,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Disentangling himself, he rose and dressed, wincing as the scratchy woollen robes rubbed against raw skin. Placing one hand over his heart, he inclined his head. “Until next time, my love.”

Turning, he left the bedchamber, locking the door behind him.


End file.
